Home to Walnut Ridge (8 page)

Nothing would make her happier than to
see her big sister fall in love and marry.

“
So what do you think,
Tracey?”

She glanced up to find them all
looking at her. “I’m sorry, what was the question?”

“
Pay attention, Sis!” Alex
said. “Noah asked what you thought of extending the front porch of
the smokehouse a couple feet wider and building an awning over it.
That would give it a covered porch where we could have some rocking
chairs, hang some ferns‌—‌make it a really inviting entrance where
people could also sit and visit.”

“
Great idea,” Tracey
answered. “And that would make it so easy to decorate for the
seasons. You know, hay bales and pumpkins and cornstalks in the
fall, Christmas lights and fresh garlands strung with
lights‍—‍”

“
Oh, Trace, that’s a GREAT
idea!” Alex cried. “Noah, we’ve got to get this done! I’m so
excited!”

“
Sweetheart, let the man
finish his dinner first, okay?” Buddy said. “You worked him all
day, I think he deserves a little peace and quiet while he eats.
Isn’t that right, Noah?”

“
Buddy, I’ve been around
Walnut Ridge long enough to know‌—‌there’s
never
‘a little peace and quiet’
when the Collins get together.”

“
Yeah, Dad, you heard him.
So Noah, how early can we get started in the morning? If I have
breakfast ready at five, will that work for you?”

“
Five o’clock?” Tracey
moaned. “Isn’t that awfully early?”

“
Okay, fine. We’ll make it
six!”

Chapter
6

After an enormous Southern breakfast
of scrambled eggs, bacon and sausage, grits, biscuits, and a piping
hot urn full of strong coffee, the team headed down the hill to get
started on the smokehouse makeover. Tracey insisted on cleaning up
the kitchen so Alex could go with them. Her sister had been up
bright and early, banging around pots and pans long before the sun
came up. Rinsing off the breakfast dishes, Tracey smiled, finding
her sister’s enthusiasm highly contagious. Much to her surprise,
Tracey’s thoughts had been filled with visions of the new shop as
she drifted off to sleep the night before.

Her smile faded when she realized what
a drastic change that was. How many nights had she lain awake
consumed with the stress of her job? And yet, that was nothing
compared to the angst that had hovered over her night and day as
she contemplated how on earth to keep the job she loved while
constantly having to fight off Morgan’s subtle nuances.

As she dried the large cast iron
skillet and stored it back in the cabinet, she silently thanked God
for this new distraction. On her flight home, Tracey had wondered
how she would get through the first few weeks away from D.C. She
was certain the whole mess she’d left behind would constantly eat
at her and drain away all her energy. Her conscious decision to
check her cell for messages only once a day had worked wonders.
What a relief to be untethered from it. From that life.

Instead, here she was,
anxious to get started in something she’d never even thought about
before. To turn pieces of discarded junk into one-of-a-kind
treasures. To work alongside Alex, filling the old smokehouse with
these treasures, then open their door for business. She felt
invigorated! She couldn’t begin to understand why she was so eager
to do it. Then again, maybe she
did
know. It was new. It was different. It was an
about-face to everything she’d ever done before. And it was all
about making old things new.

Tracey noted the symbolism, felt it
touch deep in her heart.

It was everywhere. Her father’s new
life‌—‌so radically different from that of the small-town pastor
he’d once been. His band of Elders, men whose lives had been
transformed as a direct result of Buddy’s own metamorphosis. She
was anxious to meet the rest of them, curious to hear all their
stories and find out how their lives had changed. Noah’s face
popped into her mind, and she wondered at his story most of
all . . .

And
Alex
. Dear Alex.
At a time when anyone else would be filled with bitterness
and spite at the hand that was dealt her, Alex dusted the whole
situation off her shoulders and chose to look forward.

A lesson I’d do well to
learn. Thanks for raising the bar, Sis.

Tracey filled a large thermos with
coffee, grabbed a sleeve of Styrofoam cups, and headed outside. The
brisk fresh air filled her lungs, making her grateful for the old
Vanderbilt sweatshirt she’d thrown on over her blouse. Septembers
in Tennessee had a mind of their own. Warm one day, chilly the
next. She enjoyed the walk down the hill, hearing the breeze rustle
through the leaves. How she’d loved growing up here, raking up
mountains of leaves then flying into them from the swing Dad had
hung from their oak tree’s massive branches. If she closed her
eyes, she could probably still hear the little girl giggles as she
and Alex took turns on that swing, like a soundtrack from her
childhood. She could smell the intoxicating aroma of the leaves Dad
always set to burn just over the hill. One of her all-time favorite
scents.

Yes, it’s good to be
home.

As she neared the smokehouse, she
found the men hard at work clearing out rubble, pulling off rotted
planks of wood, and lots of other dirty work.

“
Hey, guys,” she said,
holding up the thermos. “I’ll have this inside if you need a cup.
Just come on in, okay?”

“
Sure thing, Miss Tracey,”
Gristle said, using his forearm to wipe some dirt from his chin.
“That’s real nice. We thank you.”

“
No problem, Gristle.
Looks like you’re making headway out here.”

“
Yes, ma’am, we are,”
Stump said as she passed by him. “Mighty fine breakfast you and
Miss Alex served this morning.”

“
It was our pleasure,
Stump. Nice having you join us.”

Just before she stepped up to the back
door, she noticed an unfamiliar face. She smiled at him, but he
didn’t smile back. Just gave her a nod. She tucked the bag of cups
under her arm and extended her hand toward him. “I don’t believe
we’ve met. I’m Tracey Collins.”

He nodded again, brushed his gloved
hand against his jeans, then shook her hand.

“
Miss Tracey, that’s
Lester,” Stump said. “We don’t know what his last name is. He don’t
talk much.”

Tracey looked back at the scraggly
beard and ruddy complexion of the man as he shook some dirt off his
worn boots. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, but she wondered
if he might be younger with a lot of wear and tear from a rough
life.

“
He’s harmless,” Gristle
said. “Don’t mind him none, Miss Tracey.”

She turned back toward Lester,
surprised to find he’d walked off.

“
He just like that. Keeps
to hisseff. He don’t mean no nuthin’ by it.”

“
Thanks, Gristle,” she
said, stepping up to the building. “I was afraid I’d offended him
somehow.”

“
He an odd one, but Buddy
sees sumpin’ in him. He likes Buddy.”

“
Good to know,” she said
then slipped inside. There, a bank of temporary light stands bathed
the room in a surreal light.

“
Oh, Trace! You’re here!”
Alex said. “Come here! I’ve got to show you something!”

Tracey found a rough-hewn bench
against one wall and set the thermos and bag of cups on it. “What
is it?”

Alex grabbed her sleeve and pulled her
toward the front of the building. As they approached a section of
an interior wall that had been partially ripped out, Noah stepped
through the front door. “Did Alex show you what we
found?”

“
She was just about to,”
Tracey said. “You both look like you’re about to pop. What did you
find, Jimmy Hoffa’s body?”

“
No, silly.” Alex squatted
down and unwrapped some kind of old cloth. Tracey kneeled beside
her. “Look at this.” Carefully, as if handling the Hope Diamond,
Alex lifted an old teacup from the cloth. “Isn’t it
beautiful?”

Noah kneeled beside them. “We found it
in the wall here. It was wrapped in this long piece of cloth, wound
around and around. Obviously to protect it. Which worked, since
it’s in perfect condition.”

“
And look, Trace,” Alex
said in a near whisper. “The saucer was wrapped separately but just
as carefully. Not a fracture or crack on it. They’re both
perfect.”

Tracey held the saucer in one hand,
gently fingering it with the other. “So why would someone store
their fine china in the wall of a smokehouse? I wonder who put it
here?”

Noah held one of the cloths in his
hand. “I’m no expert, but that looks like some kind of crest.” He
pointed to the design on the cup. “Much more regal than I would
expect to find in most Tennessee homes.” He carefully turned it
over. “Unfortunately, there’s no stamp by the china company. That
would help, at least to know where it came from
originally.”

“
I still don’t understand
why these were in the wall,” Tracey said.

Alex carefully began rewrapping the
cloth around the teacup. “I don’t either, but I bet we can Google
it and find out. But it sure adds to the mystique of this place,
doesn’t it? I’ve always wished the walls at Walnut Ridge could
talk. Now maybe they will!”

“
In the meantime, I’d
suggest taking these up to the house and storing them somewhere so
they don’t get broken,” Noah said. “In fact, I promised Buddy I’d
meet him there. He’s got another generator for these lights until
we get an electrician to wire the place. If you’ll trust me with
them, I’ll put them in your dining room hutch.”

Alex helped him wrap the saucer. “Good
idea. In fact, let’s put them in my backpack there so they’ll be
easier to carry.”

They placed the fragile dishes gently
into the canvas bag and sent Noah on his way.

“
Okay, Sis. I brought some
of Dad’s work gloves, so put me to work.”

Side by side, Alex and Tracey pulled
down cobwebs, swept the filthy floor, and continued prepping the
interior for more serious work. Nasty work, but Tracey loved
it.

She leaned over to look out the back
door before lowering her voice. “I’ve been wanting to ask you about
Noah. He told me he met Dad on one of his biker weekends and that
he’s a roadie of some kind, but not much else. What’s his
story?”

Alex didn’t even bother looking up
from her work. “Well, there’s not a whole lot more to tell. He’s
been in the area a year or so, give or take. From what Dad said, he
used to be some big financial attorney in New York, but gave it all
up after his wife died.”

“
He’s a
widower
?”

“
That’s usually what they
call a man who loses his wife,” Alex said.

“
I know, but‌—‌well, how
did she die? Cancer?”

Alex stood back up and arched her
back. “No, she was killed in some kind of accident.”

“
That’s so sad,” Tracey
said. “I mean, he’s so young.”

Alex blew a strand of hair out of her
face. “I know. It’s hard to imagine, isn’t it? He still struggles,
from time to time. He disappears now and then, and not just when
he’s on tour with those musicians. He’ll just take off on his bike,
and we won’t see him for a week or two.”

“
Where do you think he
goes?”

“
No idea. I’m guessing he
just gets on the road and goes. Maybe it helps clear his thoughts.
Who knows. But he’s come a long, long way since Dad more or less
took him under his wing. They’re really close, as you probably
noticed.”

“
Which explains why he’s
living in your cottage.”

“
When I moved back to the
house to help Dad, it just seemed like I was supposed to stay. So I
stayed. Left most of my things down at the cottage, in case I ever
change my mind. But it was stupid to have it sitting there empty
when Noah didn’t have a place to hang his hat.”

Tracey picked a piece of straw off her
sister’s shirt. “So, tell me. How well have you gotten to know him?
He seems really comfortable around you.”

Alex clumsily scratched her ear with
the oversized glove on her hand. “What do you mean? The guy eats
dinner with us occasionally, he does odd jobs around the house,
helps Dad with his ministry projects, and they bike together now
and then. Yeah, I know him a little more than the others, but why
do you ask?”

“
Oh, I don’t know. I was
just hoping maybe you and he‍—‍”

“
Oh, for crying out loud,
Trace,” Alex whispered hoarsely. “If you’re asking if I have a
crush on him—”

“
No! I just thought maybe
you and he might have gone out for dinner or a movie or
something.”

Alex laughed. “Who are
you, Cupid?” Then, after glancing through the back door to make
sure no one was listening, she said, “No, little sister, I do not
have a crush on him, and we have not been out on a date together.
He’s a wonderful guy who’s survived an unspeakable tragedy.
Sometimes a guy like that just needs a sense of security and
friendship. The
last thing he needs is
romance.”